Carrot Cake
by Terenia
Summary: From the most humble beginnings rose two of the greatest wizards of this age. A oneshot detailing a modest meeting the day of Kendra Dumbledore's funeral.


**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. This takes place the day of Kendra Dumbledore's funeral.**

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**Carrot Cake **

"Dreadfully sorry for your loss, my dear."

"I'm sure your mother was a…ah…a wonderful woman."

"_Do_ tell me if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes, yes," said a young man in response. He was standing on the doorstep of a quaint little cottage, holding the door open. From inside the house a trickle of older men and women seemed to be emerging. He uttered a similar 'yes, yes' to each person who addressed him, regardless of their words, and ushered them on their way. Finally there was only one guest remaining, a rather old woman who insisted that she should stay, as she only lived next door. Finally the young man resolved to ask for some carrot cake, after which she scampered home, eager to please 'that poor Albus'.

Albus Dumbledore slid inside, pulling the door closed with him. The latch made an empty and resolute _click_ as it caught. The hollow, emotionless sound of metal on metal – it was an appropriate punctuation to the days events.

Albus stood there, leaning against the oak door and remembering the day with a gloomy sentiment. The witches and wizards who had visited had done so, not out of love and grief for Kendra Dumbledore, but out of curiosity and public necessity. Never mind that their intrusive thirst to see within the Dumbledore house was being quenched only because of Kendra's death. While the event was admittedly unfortunate, most of the residents of Godric's Hollow were in fact relieved to be rid of their guarded neighbor. Even their offhanded sympathies, directed at Albus and Aberforth, were created to satisfy their own interest.

"It must be horrible for you boys. How is your sister taking it? I say, where is the girl?"

Albus must have deflected countless comments of that sort. Some seemed to blush, feeling foolish for mentioning a sister whose very existence was in question. Others asked outright whether or not the girl was real or a nighttime figment of their imaginations. Regardless of the case Albus and Aberforth had sent them on their way disappointed, in a rare joint effort to keep their family secrets.

It was to his sisters' room that Albus now went, with the slow trepidation of one nearing a sickroom. As he ascended the stairs he couldn't help but feel bitter about each step he took. His summer of travel, gone. His freedom, gone. He was trapped in a cage of responsibility, and the cause of all this was one little girl. At her doorway he knocked, but of course there was no answer and he let himself in anyways.

The room was dim – only a slit of fading afternoon light filtered through the drawn drapes. Ariana was not in bed, where Albus had left her, but seated at her desk with a tablet and bit of charcoal. Her concentration on the paper was absolute – she did not as much as twitch when Albus entered. For a moment he stood there in the doorway, watching his sisters arm move with precise strokes, the line of orange sunlight laying across her golden hair like fire.

"Ariana." Albus said finally, breaking the silence that lay over the room like cotton. If his sister had heard she gave no indication. He took another step into the room, closing the door behind him. Still no movement from the young girl, save the tireless motion of her arm as she drew.

"Ariana." He said again, and this time she hesitated, missing a stroke. With careful exactitude she set down her charcoal on the wood desk and waited quietly, holding the unfinished picture close to her protectively. Albus moved forward another pace, feeling acutely uncomfortable. He had never had much to do with his sister. She represented a complete misuse of aptitude, the unhappy result of another's abuse, and it made him keenly uncomfortable. Now, however, well now she was his responsibility, and he had no choice but to edge closer.

"Ariana, I need to talk to you." Albus said, taking a final step which placed him directly beside her. She stared straight ahead.

"Where's mama?" Her voice came out strange. It was high-pitched and beautiful, yet had the rasp of a sound rarely used. Albus hated her voice.

"Mother has…gone away for awhile." Albus said hesitantly, wondering how to explain the situation. It was so hard to know what the girl understood and what was beyond her. Sometimes it was as if she were no more than a little child, innocent and uncomprehending. Other times it was as if she saw deeper into an event than even Albus.

"She isn't coming back." Ariana said softly. It wasn't a question, and Albus did not offer a response. Instead he gazed over her shoulder at the tablet his sister held. A crude charcoal sketch of his mothers face stared back at him, as stern and domineering as it had been in life. All around the outside of her face there were dark scribbles and what looked like hands reaching in to grasp at the drawn flesh.

"What is this?" Albus asked, feeling a bit uneasy at the portrait.

"Mama." Ariana replied simple, clutching the tablet to her chest as if it were a lifeline.

"Yes, I know that." Albus' voice came out more impatient than he had intended, "But what _else _is it? What did you draw around her face?"

"Oh." She put the tablet down on her desk, staring at it as if seeing it clearly for the first time. Her face grew milky and pale, and the start of tears burned in the corner of her eyes. "Those are the demons that killed mama."

At that the tears started flowing, silent and crystalline down her cheeks. The very air in the room seemed to thicken in response to Ariana's emotion. There was a gentle crackling noise, like a burning fire, which Albus knew far too well.

"Ariana!" Albus cried, struggling to keep his voice even. He grabbed her tablet and flipped it to a blank page, thrusting it into her hands with the charcoal. For a moment his sister looked confused. Then her face blanked over and she began to draw, immediately breaking the sudden tension in the room. Albus heaved a sigh of relief and began backing out of the room. He didn't have the energy to deal with Ariana's demons.

"What did you _do_?" A voice hissed from behind Albus' left ear. He jumped up in surprise, his heart nearly exploding from his chest. Whirling around, he saw Aberforth, looking mutinous and smelling like hay.

"Nothing." Albus scowled.

"Didn't feel like nothing. Have you gone and made her upset?" His brother accused. Without waiting for an answer Aberforth shoved past Albus and into their sister's room.

_Ding-dong._

"What _now?"_ Albus groaned. All he wanted was to sit down with a butterbeer and bemoan the fact that Elphias Doge was probably on his way to Bulgaria. But fate, it seemed, did not want him to rest. He stalked to the doorway, ready to tell off any impersonating well-wisher who thought it appropriate to stop by now that night had fallen.

"Who's there?" Albus asked through the door, as his mother had taught him to. An unfamiliar voice responded.

"My aunt sent me from next door! She told me to bring you carrot cake."

"I don't want any, go away!" Albus said, turning to walk back into the kitchen, his mind already back on butterbeer.

He had barely gotten two paces when he heard the lock on the door click. Astonished at the nerve of his visitor he turned back, fully prepared to hex him into next year. However, the curse fell dull on his lips as the visitor stepped into the light.

"Sorry mate," He said, brushing a golden curl from his face, "But Aunt Bathilda wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I didn't deliver this. Besides, I heard there were wizards about my age here and thought I could make myself an escape. Bathilda is determined to make my summer absolutely _dreadful_."

The visitor gave Albus a lopsided smile and held out his free hand. Albus took it and shook, still feeling uncomfortably stricken by the handsome young man. He spoke with an intriguing northern accent which seemed to suggest mystery. That combined with his boyish grin and casual countenance made Albus' cheeks feel hot as he returned the handshake.

"My name is Gellert. Gellert Grindelwald." The boy said lightly, looking Albus up and down "and actually, I don't think this will be such a bad summer after all."


End file.
